


Stones in Her Pockets

by ithappenedonenight



Category: Primeval
Genre: F/M, Hats, Late Night Conversations, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14459091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithappenedonenight/pseuds/ithappenedonenight
Summary: Sometimes talking is the only way to make the nightmares go away. Early season four Conby drabble.





	Stones in Her Pockets

They lay in bed in the artificial dark. He buried his face into her neck and tried to match his breathing to hers. Falling asleep was still hard. When he was in the forest, he used to dream of London. Now he was back in London, all he could dream about was the forest. And every dream ended with teeth. 

“Do you remember when you were sick?” Abby said unexpectedly. It was a rhetorical question. One doesn’t usually forget near-death-experiences - even the delirious loopy septic ones. Connor grunted in reply.

“You stopped being able to speak at one point,” she said, in a soft halting way. “I asked if you needed water and you said ‘fountain car window’ and then vomited in my lap.”

Connor winced - the downside of becoming insanely intimate with a person in an era with no bathrooms, hospitals or walls. “Yeah, still sorry about that,” he said back. 

“I thought you were going to die,” she said. “Legit, for real. In my bloody arms. And there was nothing I could do about it.”

“But you did do something about it,” he said, taking her hand and rolling her over so that her eyes were level with his. “You harvested algae and boiled poultices and killed a FUCKING DINOSAUR. All while I was mumbling about fountains.”

She had to smile at that. Even if it was one of those little sad half-smiles that she’d do more to humor him than anything else.

“I thought you were going to die,” she said again. They never would talk about it, out there. The d-word was off limits. Just like family or the foods that they missed. It was part of a silent shared pledge to never give in, never surrender. Now Abby was trying to make a new pact. One where it was okay to say the scary things to each other. 

“I had it planned out,” she said. “If it happened, I would carry you to the edge of the lake. And then I’d put stones in my pockets and walk into the water. It would be… my way of keeping us together.” 

He didn’t want to think about this alternate universe, the one where he somehow managed to get them both killed, all because he let a stupid cut get infected. 

“New deal,” he said, “if I manage to off myself in some impressively heroic fashion, you have to promise that you’ll go on living doubly for both of us. I picture you surrounded by a reptilian menagerie, most of which are named after me. And wearing little hats. Because, of course. In exchange,” he continued, “I promise to do everything in my power to avoid said demise, yeah?”

She thought about that for a moment. 

“Can I still have a menagerie?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied. She nodded, once, twice - treaty official made. 

She then relaxed into him, nestling her body into the warm crevices that only a human can make. Their breaths synchronized and then slowed, while visions of hat-wearing lizards danced in their heads.

_Fin._


End file.
